


Do I

by AngelOfTheImpala



Category: Jacksepticeye (RPF), Markiplier RPF, MarkiplierGAME (RPF)
Genre: M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, So much angst, i promise it won't be sad, like wow, maybe nsfw who the hell knows with me, single dads!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:52:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfTheImpala/pseuds/AngelOfTheImpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have a brilliant beyond brilliant idea! So, our dads totally like each other, right? But they’re too stubborn to do anything ‘bout it, so we gotta set them up! Make them go on dates and all of that stuff. Then, if we do it right, they can get married and we’ll be siblings!”</p><p>“Do you really think that’s gonna work, Sammy?”</p><p>“Of course it’s gonna work, Tim, I’m a genius.”</p><p>(Summary provided by rainbowblue13 on Tumblr. Link to her profile in my notes at the beginning of the chapter)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowblue13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowblue13/gifts).



> For http://rainbowblue13.tumblr.com/ on Tumblr, she was after all the one who gave me the idea. :P Thanks for posting that manip!
> 
> Tim and Sammy were created by the person above ^ so technically they belong to her? Idk. The only thing I own is the story. (The summary is from her manip)
> 
> Link to the post that inspired this: http://rainbowblue13.tumblr.com/post/118214085317/rainbowblue13-single-dads-au-i-have-a-brilliant
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr, maybe? Idk do it if you want. http://pointy-ears-and-logic.tumblr.com/

“Top of the mornin’ to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticEye, and today I will be—”

Jack was right in the middle of saying his opening sequence, when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down, and low and behold, his daughter was standing next to him, completely oblivious to the fact he was recording. But he didn’t care, he could be talking to the most important person in the world, and even then he wouldn’t care if his daughter interrupted their conversation.

Although it was not normally a problem, his daughter—Sammy—usually just sat in her room or the living room, playing with her toys or watching TV or coloring. Occasionally, she’d interrupt if she needed something, mainly food or if she hurt herself . . . which was all the time. It didn’t matter what she was doing, Sammy would somehow end up hurting herself. Never anything serious, just minor cuts and bruises.

Back when Jack started YouTube, his daughter was only two, and obviously couldn’t be left alone. Sometimes his parents would volunteer to take her for an hour or two, and so would his siblings. He knew that Sammy wouldn’t be able to sit quietly in the same room as him, so the times when his parents or siblings weren’t able to look after her, he hired a babysitter. Jack was a little frustrated with himself at the fact he paid someone to do something he should be doing, but he always made sure to spend as much time as he could with her. But those moments with her only slightly relieved him of the guilt; there was always that nagging thought at the back of his head saying, “You’re the only parental figure in her life, and yet you spend most of your time playing video games. What kind of father are you?” He would beat himself up whenever this thought went through his head, but logically, he knew that he was doing the right thing.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said as he smiled down at her and removed his headphones. “What’cha need?” She grabbed his hands, and tried to pull him up. Jack stood, and the little brown haired girl dragged him to the door.

“I need crayons,” she said as she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

“The crayons are in your art box,” he said as she continued to pull him towards the hallway. They stopped at the closet door, and she turned to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest. She had a mad look on her face, and even though he knew she was trying to be serious, Jack thought she was adorable.

“You took them from me ‘cause I drew on Tim, ‘member?”

Ah, that was right, Jack thought with some embarrassment. He honestly had forgotten all about that, and he was starting to wish that that memory would be forever deleted from his mind. Sammy had always behaved, and had never done anything to embarrass him—or herself, for that matter—in public. But for some odd reason when he took her to meet a fellow YouTuber and his son for the first time, she had decided that it would be a bright idea to draw all over the other child.

To say the very least, Jack was very embarrassed when Tim and Sammy ran into the room where he and the boy’s father were talking about some game that was just released, the boy covered in all the different colors of the rainbow, and Sammy proudly proclaiming that she did the job. Tim’s father wasn’t angry, the only people who flushed red was Jack, and his daughter after he scolded her. He had offered to stay and help the fellow YouTuber clean up his son, but the dark haired man just laughed and told him that it was fine, that he’s had to clean worse off of his son.

Yeah, right.

“Daddy?” Sammy called, annoyed, which broke Jack out of his thoughts. He shook his head, before he opened the door and grabbed the box off of the top shelf. He kneeled down, and handed them to her.

“Now, you be careful with these, okay? I don’t want to come out and find out that you used these things on anything but paper, alright?” he asked, and only when she nodded did he give them to her.

Jack headed back to his recording room, but was stopped when he heard her ask, “Daddy, were you thinking about Markimoo?” He almost laughed at the name Tim’s father—Mark, or known as Markimoo to the kids—had told her to call him. He would have laughed too, if the question she had asked him was anything but that.

“What? No, of course not, Sammy. You know Mark and I are just friends,” he replied, a little uneasy at the fact that his daughter knew about his little crush on his friend. Every time she mentioned it, he got a little worried that it was obvious, and that Mark knew. He would never say anything about it, of course Mark wouldn’t, but the fact that he would know about it . . .

Jack shivered.

Sammy looked skeptical. “Okay, daddy, whatever you say,” she said before she opened her art box, and started to color. Chewing nervously on the bottom of his lip, Jack tried to ignore what she said as he disappeared back into his domain. He sat down at his desk, and scrubbed his hands over his face. Jack glanced at the cameras, and groaned when he realized they were still recording. Well, that was a waste of footage, he thought with a shake of his head. He adjusted his hat, and grabbed his headphones, ready to play some more Happy Wheels.

But one thing prevented him from actually starting to play the game, and that was his phone sitting right next to the computer, screen completely black. Quickly, he pressed the home button and the screen lit up. He smiled slightly when he saw his background, and felt his cheeks turn red.

His background was of Mark, Tim, Bob, Wade, himself, and Sammy. He and Mark were in the middle, their children sitting on their laps, Bob stood at Jack’s side, and Wade on Mark’s. It’s his favorite picture of them all together—considering the children are sitting still and no one looks like a complete moron—so he made it his background.

Or, that was the excuse he gave everyone else who asked.

Jack flinched at the real reason, and cursed himself for being so weak.

He stared at the picture a little bit, before he got an idea. Sammy and I haven’t been out a lot lately . . . I wonder if it’s been the same way for them. Maybe I should ask Mark if he and Tim would like to come to the park with us later? He thought, and it sounded like a good idea, so he picked up his phone. He unlocked it, and sent the man on his mind a quick text.

Hey, Sammy and I are going to the park later. Wanted to see if you and Tim wanted to come as well. 

He set the phone down, and looked into the camera, before saying his opening sequence. He started playing one of the fan made levels, and he was waiting anxiously for a ting. One level became two, and when he was at his fifth level, Jack was starting to wonder why Mark hadn’t responded yet. Maybe he’s recording? He thought, and that reassured him little.

“This level is called JackSepEy No,” he read out loud. “What kind of name is that?” He shook his head, and loaded the level, when he heard a satisfying ting in the background. His eyes rushed to look at the screen, and he was glad to see Mark’s name, not someone else’s.

“God damn it Mark,” he said loudly, trying to act like it was nothing, “You interrupted my alone time with Betty!” He mentally pats himself on the back, because he knew he sounded annoyed, and everyone would laugh at that, ignoring the way he stared at his phone too long. 

He chewed on his lip as he thought, I’ll reply after the levels over. Fretfully, he started the level, and the whole time he was just repeating the same sentence over in his head, Please don’t die, please don’t die, oh God, please don’t die. “Atta job, Betty!” he hollered when the familiar victory bell played, and he was in the winner’s circle. Trying to control himself, he slowly reached for his phone, and looked at Mark’s message.

Yeah, I’d love too. Just gotta finish up the Son VS Father video, and we’ll be good. What time do you want to meet up? 

He replied with quite frightening speed.

Great! I just gotta finish up a Happy Wheels vid and we’ll be good too. How about at one? I’ve still got at least ten minutes of footage left to shoot.

He set his phone down, and managed to play one level before his phone dinged. He glanced down at the screen.

Sounds good. Same spot?

He replied with one hand.

Yeah, same spot.

Mark sent him back a thumbs up emoji, and he set his phone to the side, finally he was able to concentrate on the game in front of him.

I get to see Mark at one, he thought.

One o’clock wouldn’t come quick enough.

~

“Dad, how do I play this?” Tim asked, sitting on Mark’s lap and the controller in his hands. Mark adjusted him on his lap, and he showed him how to play the game with the controller he was holding.

“Got it?” he asked him when he was finished, and the tiny boy nodded. He picked up his son, and set him upright on the ground, before he set up his cameras to film tomorrow’s video.

Tim watched him, his brown eyes laced with excitement. He loved filming videos with his father, but today he was even more excited than usual. Why? Because today he got to wear a purple mustache while his father donned a pink one, and got to be Winthrop Warfstache, the son of Wilfred Warfstache.

Mark sat back in his chair, and Tim sat next to him. The older grabbed the mustaches off of the coffee table, and gave the purple one to the younger, who immediately put it on his face. He giggled when Mark did his Wilfred Warfstache voice, and said, “Good evening, Winthrop! What game shall we be playing today?” This was the opening sentence for all of the videos they did together, and Tim’s responsibility was to tell the audience the game.

“Today, we are playing Super Smash Bros! So, hold onto your Warfstaches, because it’s going to get Warfstachey in here!” he exclaimed, and his father smiled at him. They settled down against the back of the couch, and started the game. They chose their characters—Tim picked Lucario, while Mark picked Samus—and started the match. The purple mustached child yelled more than Mark did during games like this, and could probably compete with Jack on how loud they could get.

He got frustrated whenever he got hit, and got angry whenever he lost. He would only shout if he got knocked out of the ring or hit, and those were shouts of excitement. Oh no, Tim would never scream if he lost. The only thing that would happen is that his face would get red with rage, but then he would win and it would be gone. His personality was a lot like Mark’s, and Mark didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

“What’s the score, Winthrop?” he asked.

“Twenty to one,” replied Tim, imitating his father’s voice. Mark laughed.

“I don’t think that’s quite right, Winthrop!”

“Oh, sir, I do think it is!” his son grinned, and Mark lunged at him, tickling him as Tim kept saying, “It is! It is! I swear!”

“I think Winthrop is being a liar!” Mark shouted as he continued to tickle the five year old, who’s giggling got more intense as the time went on.

“No, dad, stop! Stop!” Tim giggled, as he pushed at the other’s hands. Mark stopped, and ruffled his son’s hair. “I lied!”

“Ah hah! You admit it!”

“Yes . . . it’s a hundred to one!”

“Oh, no you don’t—!” he shouted, as he grabbed his son once more, and wrangled him into his arms. The giggle started again, and he went in for the attack, when his phone started to ring.

Somehow, Tim managed to get away and he snatched the phone off of the coffee table, answering it before Mark could react. “You rang,” Tim answered, and after a second shouted, “Dad, its Uncle Jack!”

“Thanks, Tim,” he said as he held out his hand for the phone. Tim put it in his hand, before darting in front of the camera. “Hello?”

“Well, that’s all we have today! Next we’re playing Temple Run and I’m going to beat him,” Tim said confidently, signing out for his father. “Bye!”

“Hey Mark, its Jack. It’s one and you’re not at the meet up point. Where are ya?” the Irishman asked, and Mark could hear Sammy talking impatiently in the background.

“Oh, sorry Jack. Filming took a little longer than we thought. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay and you better hurry. Sammy’s getting impatient.”

Mark laughed, “I can hear her in the background. We’ll see you in a few, bye.” Jack replied the gesture, and they both hung up. Mark quickly turned off the cameras, and turned to the spot where his son had been standing to see he’s gone.

He blinked, and glanced around, before spotting his son by the door, his backpack on his shoulders and shoes on his feet. “Hurry up, dad!” he said impatiently.

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying,” he held up his hands in surrender, and went into the kitchen to grab some snacks for the kids from the cabinet. Heading back into the living room, he made a beeline for the impatient five year old, and put the snacks in his bag. He slipped on his shoes, before the two of them left the house.

Mark peeled off his Warfstache as they headed down the sidewalk to the corner where they were going to meet up with the McLoughlins. He glanced down at his son to see he was stilling wearing the fake mustache. “You gonna wear that all day?”

Tim beamed. “Yep!” he informed him. “Sammy loves my Warfstache!”

“She does?” he asked as the child skipped a little ways a head of him.

“Yeah! She always talks about how she wants one!” he shouted. “Dad, can we get her one?”

“Sure, buddy. What color?”

“Green!”

“Why green?”

“Because she’s Irish, and she likes the color green!” he said, excitedly. Mark laughed and shook his head at his son.

“Being Irish has nothing to do with it, Tim,” he informed him.

Tim stopped and looked up at the sky thoughtfully. “It doesn’t?”

Mark shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh,” Tim said, and he thought a little bit as they walked down the street. “But she does like the color. I know that for sure, ‘cause she always wears that shirt that has Uncle Jack’s YouTube name on it.”

“Alright, if you’re positive she likes the color green . . .” he drew off, and watched his son nod rapidly.

“Positive!” he confirmed.

“Alright, we’ll get Sammy one the next time we go to the store,” Mark decided, and Tim radiated happiness.

“Thanks, dad! Sammy will love it!” he ran up to his father and hugged him around the knees. Mark ruffled his hair.

“You’re very much welcome, my little biscuit,” he said with a smile, and Tim grinned up at him, before taking off down the street. Mark wasn’t really worried about him running towards the corner, he could see Jack and his daughter standing there, waiting patiently for them.

“Finally, you’re here,” Jack said as he approached them. Jack was currently holding Tim in his arms because his son had demanded the highest of fives, and a hug.

“Sorry, we got distracted,” Mark apologized, and Jack waved them off.

“It happens. Now, we better get them to the park before they explode from anticipation,” the Irishman joked as he set Tim down, and took Sammy’s hand.

“We can’t have that, now, can we?” the other adult asked jokingly as they crossed the street. Once they crossed it, they let go of the children’s hands, and they walked in front of their parents a little bit.

Jack shook his head, and shoved his hands in his pockets. They walked in silence for a little bit, before Jack asked, “So, what game were you and Tim playing? Please don’t tell me it was Temple Run again. You guys have played that the last two weeks.”

Mark laughed at that, because he had to admit, people were starting to get worried that that was all they were going to play. “No, this week we’re playing Super Smash Bros. I finally got him to try something different.”

“Thank God for that,” the other commented with a smile. Mark felt his heart flutter, and he forced himself to remain cool. 

“Yeah,” he looked ahead of them to see that their kids were standing at the stop sign, and he quickened his pace to catch up with them. “We better catch up with ‘em before they decide it’s a good idea to cross the street on their own.”

Jack nodded in agreement, and followed Mark to the stop sign.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnddd it's started. The two little rascals have started to plan to get their parents together, but what plan is this? ;) I totally do not know at all. Please, tell me your thoughts on this! Of course you don't have too, but it'd be much appreciated.

When they caught up with the children, the two had grabbed their stuffed animals out of their bags, and were arguing which one was better.

 

“The septic eye is the best!” Sammy shouted.

 

“No, Tiny Box Tim is better!” Tim argued, shoving the stuffed animal in the girl’s face. Sammy retaliated, and hit at Tim with the septic eye. Tim screamed, and went to hit her again when they noticed that their parents were standing next to them. They slowly lowered the stuffed creatures, and without Mark or Jack having to say anything, they apologized to each other, although the parents could tell the fight was not finished.

 

“Sammy—” Jack started.

 

“Tim—” Mark said at the same time.

 

“She/He started it!” Sammy and Jack shouted as they pointed at the other. Mark looked at Jack, who looked back at him, and they both shook their heads, before crossing the street with them.

 

“It doesn’t matter who started it, Sammy, you know better than to hit someone,” Jack scolded, and Mark nodded in agreement, nudging Tim.

 

“That goes for you too, Tim.”

 

Tim pursed his lips and looked to the side, Tiny Box Tim still clutched tightly to his chest. Mark glanced towards the Irishman’s daughter, to see she was staring at her shoes.

 

Jack sighed again, and gave Mark a weak smile. He immediately returned it, because he knew what his friend was feeling. Children were a handful, and even though they both only had one, they were more than enough for them to handle. But together? All hell could possibly break loose.

 

But before anything else could happen, they were at the park, and the kids were shoving their backpacks in their parent’s hands, before taking off. The two men found a bench to sit down on, and set the bags between them as they watched their children play, making small talk all the while.

 

“You heard from Felix recently?” Mark asked, and Jack shook his head. He hadn’t heard from the Swedish YouTuber in months.

 

“No, why?”

 

“He hasn’t been returning my calls, that’s all,” he replied quickly as he crossed his legs, and laid his arm against the back of the bench.

 

“He’s probably been busy lately,” the Irishman replied, and the American shrugged.

 

Across the playground, Sammy and Tim were watching their parents through the telescopes on top of the play set. “What are they saying?” Sammy asked the black haired boy. “You can read lips, can’t you?”

 

“Of course I can! They’re talking about eating fish sticks,” the boy replied, and the other child shoved him.

 

“They are not!”

 

“Are too!”

 

“Why would they be talking about fish sticks?”

 

“I . . . Honestly don’t know,” Tim said, defeated.

 

“Exactly,” Sammy said, before sitting down on the playground equipment. “Tim, your dad likes my dad, doesn’t he?” She watched as the youngest of the Fischbach family nod. “We need to find a way for them to get together, because they won’t do it on their own.”

 

“Why won’t they? How do you know?”

 

“Because they haven’t gotten together before now, so that means they won’t in the future!” she exclaimed, although she tried to control her voice. “They won’t get together because of us.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“Just trust me, Tim, I’m a genius,” the McLoughlin said confidently. Tim rolled his eyes, and sat down next to her.

 

“Okay, genius, how are we gonna get them together then?” he asked, and she looked at the sky thoughtfully.

 

She snapped her fingers a moment later. “Tim! What do most people do when they love each other?”

 

He scrunched up his nose. “Uh . . . hug and kiss each other a lot?”

 

Sammy face palmed. “No! They go on dates! We need to get them to go on a date!”

 

“How? That’s going to be impossible!” Tim stared at the brown haired girl, wondering if she’d gone insane.

 

“We need to ask Uncle Wade or Uncle Bob to help us!” she replied, and stood up on the equipment. “Or we could say that we’re hungry when the sun’s going to go down, because then they have to take us out to eat, and when we get to the restaurant, we’ll ask for some money, then leave them be at the table!”

 

Tim shook his head. “That won’t work,” he sang. “They’ll never admit it to each other.”

 

Sammy puffed up. “But we gotta try!”

 

Tim pressed the tiny box to his chest, and stared at the flooring of the playground equipment. “But what if they really _don’t_ like each other?” he asked, as he tightened his grip on the box. She sat down across from him, and rested a hand on his shoulder.

 

“That’s no way to talk!” she said as the hood of her jacket moved, and Tim could spot Septic Eye Sam in her hood. “Of course they like each other. My daddy’s face gets all red when he thinks about him. Doesn’t Markimoo’s?”

 

Tim paused. “Yes, but it could just be an embarrassing memory—”

 

“Tim, its love.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I just know these things, okay? Not to mention they remind me of Mike and Mary.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Mike and—never mind,” she stopped herself before she explained who they were. “Are you with me, or not?” Her blue eyes studied him, waiting for an answer. Tim looked up after a second, and nodded.

 

“Okay, what are we gonna do?”

 

She beamed. “Great! First things first . . .”

 

Back with the two YouTubers, Jack laughed at something Mark said, and was about to respond with some dumb comment, when he realized that he hadn’t seen their children in a while. “Mark?” he asked, and that stopped his friend’s laughter. “Have you seen the kids lately?”

 

Mark panicked for a second, and his eyes searched wildly for any sign of the kids, when he spotted them on top of the play set, talking by the slides. He relaxed, and nudged Jack, before pointing them out. Jack let out a sigh of relief as well, and they went back to their conversation. They kept an eye on them from the corner of their eye, and when both of them took their eyes off of them for a second . . .

 

They heard a scream.

 

Both jerked up at the sound, and their eyes immediately shot to the place where they last saw Sammy and Tim . . .

 

Only to see Tim fall off of the equipment. Mark cried out as he watched his son face plant it into the dirt, and he immediately ran over to him, shouting an, “Are you okay?!” along the way.

 

Jack grabbed the bags, and high-tailed it over to the spot where his friend was checking over his son for injuries. Luckily, it seemed that he had none, except for a couple of bruises and scrapes—never mind. Tim had a big, long, nasty gash along his knee, and while it wasn’t gushing blood, it also wasn’t dribbling by any means.

 

“Crap,” Mark cursed, “The one time I didn’t bring a first aid kit . . .”

 

Sammy slid down the slide, and raced around the side of the equipment to join them as Jack pulled out his first aid kit from his daughter’s bag. “Don’t worry, I have one,” he said, and pulled out some disinfectant, and some gauze.

 

Tim hissed at Sammy when no one was looking, “Since when was that a part of the plan?”

  
She winced. “It wasn’t,” she replied as she kneeled beside him, and her father started treating his wound. Tim winced when the disinfectant touched his injury, but he was happy when it was over with, because his father picked him up and proclaimed that they were going to get ice cream.

 

Still clutching Tiny Box Tim to his chest, the brown eyed boy stared at Sammy over his father’s shoulder as they gathered their things and headed towards the parlor. Tim mouthed at his friend, “ _What are we going to do now? Ice cream is not a date!_ ”

 

Sammy mouthed back as the septic eye peaked out from behind her shoulder, “ _We’ll figure something out, don’t worry._ ” The younger of the two huffed, and buried his face in his dad’s flannel. Sammy ran her fingers through her hair worriedly, before she grabbed her father’s hand, and begged to be carried. He put her on his shoulders, and she pressed her face against his hat, ignoring their conversation as she thought about their next plan.

 

“. . . That’s the last time I forget to bring the first aid kit,” Mark grumbled as he rubbed his child’s back. “I feel like a lousy parent . . .”

 

“Don’t,” Jack said, shaking his head. “It happens to the best of us.”

 

Mark rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve ever forgotten the first aid kit.” He stared at the ground, his glasses slowly falling down on his nose. Jack turned away, and decided to stare at the scenery on his right.

 

“Actually,” the Irishman started. “I never used to bring a first aid kit.”

 

Mark’s gaze shot towards Jack. “You didn’t?”

 

The brown haired man shook his head, and adjusted his grip on his daughter’s legs. “No, I didn’t. I figured we’d never need it. But then one day Sammy was playing on the playground and much like what happened today . . . Wham,” he said. “Bonk,” he added, and snapped his fingers by his temple, “She got hit by some impatient kid who knocked her off of the play set, and she cracked her head open on the ground, and it knocked her out. I was so terrified she wasn’t going to wake up. I was imagining the worst as the paramedics were being called and were on their way. I . . . I tried to wrap her head in my shirt, but it didn’t help, not at all.”

 

Jack stared solemnly on the ground in front of him, and the normally talkative Mark was quiet. “Of course she was okay, but after that I always made sure to keep a first aid kit on me at all times when we’re at places like the park. I don’t want to see that much blood around my daughter ever again,” he said quietly, and tears pricked at his eyes, but he wiped them away.

 

Mark swallowed, and felt tears of his own welling up in his eyes. Stories like this always made him emotional, and the fact it was a very close friend of his that this happened too—who he also had a crush on—and he loved said friend’s daughter to bits, it made it even worse. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if today had happened the same way that it did for Jack.

 

Well, for one thing, neither of them would be walking to the ice cream shop. Jack shook his head, trying to get rid of the depressing thoughts. “Anyways,” he swallowed.

 

The half-Korean took that as a sign to change the topic, and he gladly changed it. Jack looked relieved, and he smiled a little bit as they started to talk about the new _Five Nights at Freddy’s_ game that had been announced. “I haven’t even finished the third one,” Jack admitted with a slight blush.

 

Mark laughed. “I noticed. Personally, I’m quite excited for it, although I thought that the third one was going to be the last . . .” he drew off, and shrugged at the thought. He looked at the Irishman, and asked, “Have you been trying recently to beat the game?”

 

Jack turned his gaze on him, and nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, I have been, but I can’t seem to beat him,” he stopped, before he added with a grin, “Do you have any advice for me? Considering you’re the “King” of _Five Nights at Freddy’s?_ ”

 

The black haired man laughed as he adjusted his son in his arms, and that’s when both of them noticed that said child was asleep. Mark chuckled, and shook his head before he looked at Jack, who made an upward motion towards Sammy. “Is she asleep?” he asked.

 

The fellow YouTuber nodded, and then it was Jack’s turn to shake his head. “I swear that they would have stayed awake long enough for their ice cream . . .” Jack mumbled.

 

The other hummed in agreement. “Eh, let them sleep. Let’s just wake ‘em up when we get there,” he said, before addressing Jack’s earlier comment. “All I can give as advice is just to lead him from room to room, and keep him as far away from you as possible. Were you doing that?”

 

“Aye, but I would get a ventilation system error or something along those lines, and he would haul ass to my room, it would seem,” he said, and shook his head.

 

“I hate it when that happens,” Mark replied with a sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you, then.” He rubbed Tim’s back, and the boy tightened his grip on the blue flannel. Mark pressed his cheek against the side of Tim’s head, and stared ahead.

 

“I’ll . . . figure it out eventually,” Jack said with a slight blush. “I hope.” Mark smiled, and kissed the side of his son’s head lovingly. Jack bit down on his lip, because he wanted to know what those lips would feel like on his, and he wondered what it would feel like if Mark kissed him as lovingly as that?

 

The Irishman’s breath caught in his throat, and he choked on it. While still holding onto his daughter, he pounded onto his chest with his hand. Worriedly, his companion moved the small distance between them, and words of concern were plainly on his lips. “I’m fine,” he coughed, and then laughed nervously. His hand went up to grab his daughter’s shin, and keep her steady.

 

“You sure?” blue eyes met brown, and when Jack nodded again, only then did return to where he was originally standing.

 

_What was I doing?_ Mark thought when he realized that he was acting a little too concerned about his friend’s well being. _Oh God, I hope he didn’t notice._

 

But little did he know, Jack was thinking the same thing.

 

Soon, the ice cream parlor came into view, and both of them sighed inwardly with relief. “Hey, guys wake up,” Mark said softly as they started to wake up their children. Sammy was the first one to wake up, and she rubbed at her eyes before looking around. When she noticed where they were, she squealed with excitement.

 

“Tim! We’re at the ice cream shop!” she exclaimed, and bounced on her heels as her friend slowly woke up. Brown eyes opened up, and he just stared at the sign. Then he rolled over in Mark’s arms, and went back to sleep. Jack had to smile at that, because it was quite adorable.

 

Mark tried to wake up his son again, and said child just groaned in protest. Sheepishly, he looked up at them, and started slowly, “. . . You guys can go on ahead. We’ll catch up when Tim here wakes up a little.”

 

The slowly graying Irishman wanted to protest, and say that they would wait for them, but his daughter spoke up before he could. “Okay! See you soon, Markimoo!” she shouted as she grabbed his hand, and started to pull him towards the shop. Reluctantly, Jack followed, and before they entered the building, he looked back one last time to see Mark trying to wake up Tim once more.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not updating in forever! I've been busy, and since I'm going to Nashville in a couple of weeks I've been saving up some spending money! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Chapter Three

 

Jack stared at the unusual flavors of ice cream on the board, curious as to what some of these flavors were. Either America had weird ice cream flavors, or Jack didn’t go to the right ice cream shops.

 

_What the hell is pizza ice cream? I really hope that it doesn’t taste like ice cream and pizza mixed . . . ugh. What the hell, America?_ he thought with a shake of his head.

 

“I want . . . hm,” Sam paused and stared at the board, before deciding after her father nudged her when the people behind him started to grow restless. “I want cookie dough ice cream, please!” she exclaimed before stepping the side to let her father order.

 

“Uh, that’ll be all,” he said, swallowing hard when he noticed that a kid over to the side was eating the pizza ice cream. He felt like he was going to throw up right there. He paid, before they moved to the side. It wasn’t until they got their ice cream and sat down that the Fischbach’s came in; Tim looking a little more alive than before.

 

Tim sat down at the table while Mark went to the window and ordered, the young boy’s legs swinging off of the chair. “Feeling better now?” Jack asked as Tim placed his stuffed animal on the table, and played with the arms.

 

He nodded, and just continued to play with the Tiny Box Tim. Jack’s lip twitched, because Tim was quiet for once and that was really odd for him. But before he could say anything, Mark came back with their ice cream and sat down. He frowned when he noticed Jack wasn’t eating anything. “Aren’t you hungry?”

 

“I was, until I saw that you guys have pizza ice cream,” he said, scrunching up his face. “What the hell is wrong with you Americans? Isn’t anything safe from being deep fried, or becoming something it definitely _shouldn’t_?”

 

Mark frowned. “Hey, you can blame Iowa for that. Their state fair will literally fry _anything._ A couple of years ago they fried butter on a stick*,” he responded as he jabbed his spoon into the frozen treat. The two children ignored the adults as they ate with one hand, and slammed Septic Eye Sam and Tiny Box Tim into each other.

 

Jack gagged. “Oh God. What else does Iowa think is fine to deep fry?”

 

The black haired YouTuber thought for a moment. “Uh . . . I think I remember reading about how they have deep fried a brownie, Milky Way, Snickers, and a Twinkie.”

 

“Nasty, man,” the Irishmen said, and if he wasn’t going to puke at the thought of pizza ice cream, he was _definitely_ going to barf at the thought of deep fried Twinkies.

 

Mark shrugged once more. “Eh, we’re talking about a state fair that enjoys putting everything on a stick,” he replied nonchalantly as he shoveled more ice cream into his mouth. “There’s . . . shit, what is there?” he wondered, before pulling out his phone and looking it up. “Here . . . just look at all this stuff they put on a stick.”

 

Jack took the phone hesitantly, and peered at the screen with reluctance. _Oh God . . . Jumbo toasted marshmallow on a stick . . . Cajun chicken on a stick . . . Hard boiled egg . . . Smoothie on a stick?! What the fuck, Iowa?!_

“There are _sixty-nine_ items on a stick available at this thing?” he asked, dumb founded. He handed the phone back and Mark nodded. “Holy sh—I mean, oh my God. You Americans are so weird.”

 

“Yeah, we all know it,” he replied and then looked at his son, who was tugging at his shirt.

 

“Dad, can I have some money for the games?” Tim asked, chewing on his bottom lip. When Mark wordlessly handed him a five dollar bill, Tim jumped up, kissed him on the cheek, told him he loved him, and ran off to the game corner.

 

Sam, while she didn’t ask for anything, was also handed five dollars, which she took gratefully. Jack placed his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in his palm.

  
The arcade game the kids decided to play was Donkey Kong on one of the giant arcade machines that they had when he was a kid. He smiled as he remembered playing those with his siblings, and getting angry when they were better at any of them than him.

 

His eyes scanned the rest of the machines, not surprised to see both Mr. and Mrs. Pacman, and Galactica. There were some other recognizable titles, but the ones that their kids were playing were ones that everyone knew.

 

“Do you remember going to arcades and playing those exact games?” he asked, bringing Mark’s attention to him.

 

Mark looked at the games, and nodded, before turning back to his ice cream. “Yeah, I do, but only on certain occasions, and in whatever McDonalds we went too. A lot of the games I played were online,” he said, pushing the slowly melting ice cream around in the cup.

 

Jack wanted to punch himself in the face right then and there at his comment. _Jack, you’re such a fucking idiot._

Across the shop, even though Sam was busy trying to eat all the ghosts before the time ran out, she couldn’t help but worry if the conversation between her dad and Markimoo was going well. She knew her dad was very capable of saying the wrong thing, and she didn’t want her dad to embarrass himself, because if he embarrassed himself he would never attempt too—

 

She pursed her lips as the death screen played, and Pacman slowly folded into himself. “Your turn, I guess,” she said and stepped to the side. She watched Tim briefly—who was much better at this—before she stole a glance at the two adults. They were talking civilly, and . . . laughing. She was relieved, because if her dad did something wrong she wouldn’t be able to fix it.

 

“So, are we going to do it tonight, then?” Tim whispered to her, and she barely caught it. Mainly, because he was no where close to her ear. She looked up.

 

“Yeah. Do you have a bag big enough to pack everything?” He nodded. “Okay, good. I hope this works,” she said, nervously pulling her brown hair into her mouth and chewing on it.

 

Tim tapped the button harder on the console. “I do too; if it doesn’t my dad will never trust me again.”

 

Tim was more concerned about his relationship with his father than Sam was about hers. _It’ll be fine,_ she convinced herself. _If this works out, he’ll get over his anger quickly and we’ll be fine._ She knew if she second guessed herself, she’d get nervous and wouldn’t go through with the plan, and if she didn’t go through with it, no one would. Her friend certainly didn’t have the guts too.

 

They ran through the ten bucks quickly, and departed back to the table, complaining about how tired they were and how they wanted to go home. Mark was collecting all of Tim’s things with a sigh. “I guess we better get going,” he said begrudgingly.

 

Jack sighed as well. “Yeah, we better get going too so I can put Sam to bed . . . and edit a bunch of videos for tomorrow,” he scratched his head, and grabbed Sam’s hand. They walked to the curb, before said their goodbyes, and went separate directions, even though they could very well walk home together.

 

Immediately upon the McLoughlin’s return home, Jack took Sam into the bathroom and started her bath. He washed her hair thoroughly, and only once she scrubbed her body clean did he bring out the bath toys. She grabbed a bath crayon, and colored a septic eye on the wall, before drawing her family, excluding her mom.

 

Jack sat and watched her, rolling his lip in between his index finger and thumb. He was thinking about which video he should upload and record tomorrow. He took off his beanie, and scrubbed his fingers over his hair, smiling when Sam pointed out her drawings.

 

She smiled back at him, before she picked up the body paint, and started spreading the green along her skin. “Look!” she exclaimed, jumping up. He reached out for her, in case she slipped. “I’m a septic eye!” She giggled, and that caused his smile to grow so large his cheeks hurt.

 

“Not yet,” he said, before grabbing the white paint, and painting a large circle on her face. Then he added the blue, and black. “Now you’re my cute little septic eye!” She laughed, and pressed her hand against his face, leaving a green hand print. He laughed too, and pressed his hand against her arm, leaving a black mark. They swapped pant for a while, before his sides hurt from laughing so hard. “Okay, enough, enough! I surrender,” he feigned defeat, and laid on the bathroom floor with his forearm over his eyes. She giggled, before sitting back down in the bathtub and painting the walls. He removed his arm, and looked down at the state of his t-shirt to see that there was some paint on it, but he knew it would come out. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

 

He looked towards his daughter to see what she was doing. “What’cha doing?” he asked.

 

“Painting a dragon!” she said proudly, modeling it off to him. He complimented her work, before she turned back around. That’s when his eyes met the scar on her back, and he flinched.

 

He hated that scar. Jack had scars very similar to those, and while he could live with his, he absolutely hated hers; it was painful reminder of something he wasn’t able to prevent her from getting.

 

The night she got that scar would always been clear as day, and he fucking hated it. He pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes, trying to push away the memory, but it came back anyways.

 

It always did.

 

_Jack only had one rule when he found out that his ex-girlfriend was pregnant, and that was that she would never lay a hand on their children like she did to him. **He** was the beating bag. If they did something wrong, she would take it out on **him**. Never them. If she didn’t promise to do that, he would ask that she got rid of it—and surprisingly, she said she would if he didn’t want it, which was unlike her. _

_She promised that she wouldn’t lay a hand on it, and Jack was happy. He was happy to become a dad; it was something he always wanted, and the fact that she wouldn’t hit him in any way during those nine months were a blessing as well._

_The first four years were five; she never hit their daughter, she always found him and would tell him what a worthless piece of shit he was, and then beat the shit out of him. He wouldn’t strike back—the one time he did, he ended up pinned to the floor and his ex pressing the end of a cigar against his stomach. Even though he hated smokers with a burning passion, and she didn’t smoke, she kept around her dad’s cigars because they would burn a nice circle into his skin. Only when she ran out of the cigars did she stop doing that._

_Even though she didn’t have any more of those cigars, he was still scared of what she’d do next . . . what item she would try to sear into his skin._

_So he never fought back, and he never got angry at Sam because his beatings had increased since she was born. No, he loved that little girl. Nothing would ever change that._

_He thought that Sam would never have to know what it felt like when someone called you a stupid motherfucker, a hopeless bastard, or anything along those lines, or what it felt like getting a punch to the face because you didn’t buy the right kind of cereal._

_But eventually she did, and he regrets that to this day. He came home from his class to find Sam crying on the floor, his ex screaming in her face, and holding her belt like a whip in her right hand as she clutched Sam’s brown hair in the other._

_He never knew what true rage felt like until that moment. He doesn’t remember a lot in between the time he came home and the cops came, but he does remember how he hurtled over the couch to beat her over the head with his fist, before taking the belt from her._

_Apparently, after he knocked her unconscious he tied her to a chair using all the belts he could find, called the police, and cradled Sam to his chest before the police entered the apartment. They reports said that the police had no idea what the hell was going on when they entered the apartment, the apparent assailant was tied to a chair with belts, and the only other people in the house were in the corner, cowering and the father hiding the girl from view._

_Jack did remember this part; he remembers how his ex tried to convince them that he had attacked her, and that he was the abusive one. He remembered trying to convince them that for almost seven years he had endured this, and that she wasn’t the victim._

_Of course the police just wanted to get Sam medical attention, and the two parents separated. So, Jack went with Sam to the hospital to get checked out. He held her as they stitched her back up, and checked her for other injuries. The one thing he protested more than anything else was being separated for her, so he went with them to every test they ran on her, and when the time came for him to get checked out, once again he refused._

_So, once again, she came with him, but she was distracted by a nurse so she wouldn’t see all the hideous scars underneath his shirt. Before he was checked out, the police still had no idea who to believe, they didn’t have Jack’s story yet, and the ex’s story seemed plausible. But once they saw all of his scars, the new ones, the cigar burns, the barely healed cuts from a knife on the inside of his thighs, they knew who was guilty._

_Almost the next night, Jack was calling Mark to see if he could stay with him until he found a place in Los Angeles. Almost a week later, Jack and Sam were in LA. Two weeks later, his ex was in prison and they found a place._

Tears were streaming down his face, and his hands were pressed so hard onto his eyes that he was seeing stars when Sam called out to him. He slowly exhaled, composing himself before he pulled away his hands and looked at her. “Yes, darling?”

 

“I’m done,” she said. He nodded, and murmured an okay before he slowly wiped the paint off of her, and dried her off, fighting off the memories and barely concealed fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * . . . sadly, this is a real thing. The Iowa State Fair had butter on a stick one year. Sadly, I tried it, and it was super hot that day, so all that butter and dough made my stomach hurt. Fuck you, Iowa. (Even though I love it here???)
> 
> . . . . Iowa also has a lot of items on a stick . . . here's the link if you want to check out some of their items: http://www.iowastatefair.org/fair-attractions/food/on-a-stick/ .
> 
> I know that the Iowa State Fair had nothing to do with the topic, but I figured since Jack is Irish, and if he moved to the US there'd be a lot of things he'd find that would be way, way different than in Ireland. So . . . I decided to talk about some of the weird shit Iowa has. It's all I know, sorry.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. The second to last chapter. I know this fic seems short, and I apologize for that. I just felt that this pacing was correct. Sorry for such the long wait as well--I've been busy, and working on my stories that aren't fanfics. I hope you guys like this chapter, even though it's short. Thanks for being patient :)
> 
> Oh! And my tumblr has changed as well. You can either find me under lanox ! Follow me if you would like, and feel free to message me anytime! :D

Chapter Four

 

Sam was ready.

 

She waited until she heard the clicking and noise in the other room come to a stop, before she climbed out of bed. She shoved some clothes, toys, her piggy bank, and Septic Eye Sam into her backpack before she slowly opened the door and went into the hallway. The house was silent, and the only light was coming in from the windows, and her dad’s filming room. She peered in to make sure he was asleep, and he was. His face was illuminated by the computer screen; his eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open. She bit her lip, slightly remorseful of what she was about to do.

 

She walked out the front door and down the street to the spot where she and her dad had meet up with the Fischbach earlier that day. Tim was already there. “Do you have everything?” she asked, clutching the straps of her bag tightly.

 

He nodded, tears in his eyes. “Do we really have to do this?” he asked his voice cracking as he asked her that. Tears sprang into her eyes at that, and she nodded, trying to conceal her sadness.

 

“We do, it’s the only way our parents will be able to be together, is if we’re gone,” she said, looking down at the concrete. “If we’re here they’ll never confess it to each other.”

 

“Where are we even going to go?” he bit hard into his bottom lip, tears streaming down his face at this point. “I don’t want to be homeless, Sammy.”

 

“I don’t want to either,” she said, “I know a place where we can go. They’ll never know we’re there, if we’re careful. Come on, it’s going to be a long walk to the bus station . . .” she grabbed Tim’s hand, and they started walking off together.

 

When Jack woke up, his face was sore from being pressed against the keyboard, and he yawned, rubbing his hand against his forehead. He pressed the home button on his phone, and squinted at the time to see it was twelve o’clock, and that Sam still hadn’t woken him up.

 

He stretched, leaning back and listening for the familiar sounds of the TV playing Paw Patrol, but he didn’t hear it. Frowning, Jack got up from his chair, and looked in the living room.

 

She wasn’t there.

 

He checked the kitchen.

 

She wasn’t there either.

 

Slightly panicked, Jack thought that maybe she was still asleep.

 

He checked her bedroom.

 

She wasn’t there.

 

He checked his bedroom.

 

She wasn’t there either.

 

Panicked, Jack ran through the whole house, checking every crevice looking for his daughter, and getting more and more panicked when he couldn’t find her. His mind immediately went to the worst.

 

 _Oh God, she’s escaped and found out where we lived and she kidnapped her and killed her and—_ he thought, his mind went into a flurry thinking what could have possibly happened.

 

He sat down on the couch, his hands trembling. “Calm down, Jack, calm down . . . you would know if she had escaped prison. You would know. Someone would call. Someone . . . would . . . call,” he took a deep breath, before he said; “Maybe she went over to Mark’s and didn’t tell me . . . yeah, she’s done that before. That’s it.”

 

With trembling hands, he brought out his phone, and called Mark. Breathing heavily, he held the phone against his ear and counted the rings. Once Mark answered, the first words out of his mouth are, “Is Sam there?”

 

“What?” Mark asked.

 

“Is Sam there?” Jack asked again without a second delay.

 

“Er, I’m not sure. Let me check with Tim,” he said, and then he could hear Mark walking into a room. “Tim . . . Tim?” he called and he sounded panicky when he called out his son’s name again. “Tim? Tim!” he shouted, and his footsteps sound heavy.

 

“Mark!?” Jack called, worried.

 

“Tim’s not here either!” Mark yelled.

 

Jack’s eyes widened. “Do you think they—?”

 

“I don’t know, I-I’m going to call the Grumps and see if they’ve seen them.”

 

“I’m going to check the block and park, see if they went there,” the Irishman responds, before they both hang up.

 

An hour passed. Then two. Then three, and then finally four. The two men searched all over and called everyone they knew, just to make sure, before they filed a report, both of them being a sobbing mess at that point. They were at Mark’s house, and they clutched each other tightly, both of them giving the police the information they wanted. People stopped by—the Game Grumps said they would go out and look for them, which they did. Some of their other friends stopped by, and they got a couple calls from other YouTubers.

 

Neither of them ate that day, and by the time night rolled around, they were both still lying on the couch together, clutching each other for dear life, waiting for the phone to ring.

 

Neither of them slept that first night.

 

Meanwhile, earlier that day around four in the morning, Tim just entered the spare key to the Grump Space, and they entered the silent building. “How are we gonna stay here?” he asked Sam, because he honestly didn’t know that this is where she planned for them to stay here. “They’re going to find us here tomorrow.”

 

“Not if we’re careful,” she said again. “We’ll sleep in that spot we found last time. Y’know, that spot where we both could sit there just fine and no one could find us? We’ll sleep there, and stay there all day, and then we’ll hide food back there during the night when they’re not here. They’ll never find us, and once our parents are together we’ll come out of hiding.”

 

Tim looked skeptical. “Whatever you say, Sam. If we get caught tomorrow, I’m going to blame you,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

 

“Whatever. Get all the food you can find in the kitchen that we won’t need to cook and I’ll get some blankets,” she said, and then disappeared to find some blankets. Tim sighed, and went off to do his job.

 

The next day, in the Grump Space, Dan, Ross, and Arin were getting ready to record an episode of Steam Train. Arin was setting up the equipment; Ross was on Twitter and Dan was looking for his blanket. “I can’t believe both Tim _and_ Sam ran away,” Ross murmured as he scrolled through his dashboard to see everyone asking Jack and Mark why they wouldn’t be posting anything for while.

 

“I know,” Arin replied quietly, shoving in whatever game a fan sent them about a month ago. “Have you been over to Mark’s today? Both he and Jack are just sitting there on the couch in each other’s arms; staring at the phone as if it holds all the answers . . . They didn’t even notice me or Suzy when we walked into the house.”

 

Ross shook his head; he couldn’t believe what had happened to their friends. He couldn’t believe that the two kids had just run away, it was unlike them. As far as everyone else could tell, their home life with their fathers had been perfect. There was no need to runaway, and both Mark and Jack had told them that just the night before they had gone out together to the park and then went to get ice cream afterwards. Everything had been fine.

 

Why would they want to runaway?  


“Have any of you seen my blanket?” Dan asked, searching all over the place for it. “I swear I left it on the couch yesterday before we left to go search for Tim and Sam.” Ross and Arin glanced up at that, staring at Dan who looked kind of frazzled. The disappearance of Sam and Tim had been hard on everyone—not as much as Jack and Mark of course—but Dan seemed to not being handling it as well as the others. He was visibly distraught when he heard the news, probably because the two called him Uncle Dan and adored him. He was number three on the kids’ favorite people list; he was right behind their father and then the other child’s father. He took great pride in that, and when they had run away . . . he really didn’t know what to do.

 

“Maybe you took it home?” Ross suggested, and he watched as Dan’s eyes went dark.

 

“I didn’t take it home with me, Ross,” he said coldly, “I didn’t have _time_ to go home last night. I was out searching for Tim and Sam and then I went over to Mark’s. It can’t be at home.”

 

Ross bit his lip, and Arin interrupted, “Dan, I’m sorry we don’t know where your blanket is. Just sit down on the couch and use the brown one. We need to finish recording for today so we can help look for them again.” Dan pursed his lips, and then nodded briefly before he sat down on the couch away from Ross.

 

Sam and Tim did everything they could from running out from their hiding spot and giving Dan his blanket back.

 

At Mark’s house, Jack was just waking up as everything was going down at the Grump Space. He pried himself off of the spot from where he was attached to Mark’s side and he headed into the kitchen. Ever since Sam and Tim disappeared, Jack has stayed at Mark’s house, neither of them wanting to be alone. After all, it had been their kids who had ran off with each other.

 

He dug his front teeth into his lip as he entered the kitchen. It was still as painful as ever to walk into a room and not see the kids there. It was painful to not see any signs that there had been a child that had lived in this house. He covered his mouth with his hand, holding back a sob. Jack didn’t want to breakdown, not this early in the morning, but he couldn’t help but find himself doing that. He . . . he just wanted his daughter and Mark’s son back.

 

He was making a pot of coffee when Mark stumbled in, looking worse then he did. Or, Jack assumed he looked worse then he did. But Mark probably thought the opposite. Mark’s clothes were ruffled, and he was still wearing the same shirt and jeans that he was on the day the two kids disappeared. Neither Jack nor Mark had time to change his clothes.

 

Actually, to be more accurate, they just didn’t care enough.

 

Mark’s eyes were red and puffy, and he looked like he was going to start crying again. “Where’s Tim and Sam?” he asked, and it was something he had asked every morning since they had disappeared. He wanted to think it was all a bad dream, that it actually wasn’t true.

 

Tears filled Jack’s eyes, like they did every morning he was asked that question. “They’re gone, Mark,” he croaked, and suddenly Mark was in his arms, and they were both crying. Jack cradled him close to his chest, and like usual they both lowered themselves to the floor, neither of them having the willpower to stand.

 

“It’s my fault,” Mark sobbed, arms wrapping around Jack tighter. “I shouldn’t have—”

 

“Mark,” Jack said gently, even though he felt the same way as him. “It’s not our fault. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not, it’s not,” he repeated over and over again, and he couldn’t tell if it was for Mark’s sake or his own.

 

Mark sobbed again, but then it stopped. Even though Jack couldn’t see his face he knew Mark had shoved his fist in his mouth to prevent the sobs from escaping. They sat there on the floor for who knows how long, before the two finally got up, deciding that they couldn’t sit there all day. It wouldn’t help them find their kids.

 

They stood there quietly in the kitchen, Jack moving slowly over to the coffee pot and pouring some into a cup, as Mark spoke softly, “I’m going to go take a shower . . . I’ll uh . . . be back in a bit.” Then he disappeared. Jack stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to do. So, he just walked back into the living room and laid down on the couch again, already too tired to do much more.

 

Soon Mark entered the room again in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. His eyes no longer looked puffy, but both of them knew that they’d look that way soon enough.

 

Weeks went back after that, and Jack continued to stay at Mark’s house, since they were the only source of comfort the other could get. Each night they would go out and search for Sam and Tim, but with each passing day they knew the chances of finding them decreased. But they still held onto to some sort of hope, because they couldn’t be gone. Someone would find them. They had too.

 

Mark’s mom and brother visited them once, and offered to help them search. After a week, they had to return home but during that time Mark had gotten the most rest between them both. Jack during that time was restless; because while both Mark’s brother and mother offered him comfort, it didn’t . . . it didn’t feel genuine. Especially when he overheard Mark’s mom tell Mark while they thought Jack was taking a shower that she thought it was Jack’s daughter’s fault for Tim running away.

 

Mark hadn’t said anything. He had stayed quiet, until at least a couple of minutes passed. Then he said, “I don’t ever want to hear those words come from your mouth again.” Then it was silent again. Jack couldn’t help but let those words get to him, and so they dug their way underneath his skin, making him question almost everything about himself.

 

Jack’s hands were currently gripped tightly around a cup of coffee, and he was staring at the dirty dishes in the sink. Barry had come over a couple of days ago and offered to clean the sink while he was there, but Jack wouldn’t let them, it was something they had to deal with, not Barry.

 

In between the time that Sam and Tim had discovered missing and that moment, there had been no YouTube videos uploaded on either one of their channels. Neither of them had posted anything on any of their social media accounts, either. Everyone was asking what had happened, and some even thought they were dead, but were reassured by the others.

 

Jack brought the coffee cup to his lips, and let out a shuddering breath. He hated how dependent he became on Mark, and how he was still living in Mark’s house, even though his was just down the road. He hated how he couldn’t sleep well at night unless they were together in the same bed with their arms wrapped around each other, trying to fill the hole that had been created with their kids missing. But he knew that it wasn’t just him being selfish, Mark needed it too and they both knew that once their kids returned their lives would go back to normal. They wouldn’t _need_ each other any more like they do.

 

Well, at least that’s what Jack thought.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, we're finally at the end! It didn't take me as long to get this chapter out, now, did it? I hope you all enjoy the chapter :D
> 
> Just a reminder, you can follow me at lanox and danavidammmmnnnn on tumblr! Lanox is my personal and on danavidammmmnnnn I take prompts! Send me one some time if you like :D
> 
> Anyways, onto the chapter!

Chapter Five

 

For the most part, Sam and Tim’s plan had worked out pretty well. Their fathers were closer, they knew that. Uncle Dan and the others always talked about them before their show, that they were practically living together now. Tim hadn’t thought that that sounded good, but Sam disagreed. She thought it was a good step in the development of the relationship; she had no idea of what she had done to her father or Tim’s. After all, she was only five. Five year olds didn’t understand things like this well. She didn’t know her father was distraught without her, she thought he would have been just fine.

 

After all, Jack was a tough man in her eyes.

 

But everything all came crashing down around them when one day they heard their Uncle Dan cry. They knew that they were upset over their disappearance but so far all they had heard from them was how they missed them, they never once heard them cry.

 

Until today.

 

Sam could remember it clearly, what had happened. They were still in their hiding place, and Dan and Arin were just a few feet away, getting ready for their next recording when Dan started crying, saying how he couldn’t handle anymore the fact that Sam and Tim were gone, that it had been too long, they had to be dead and that he couldn’t handle it.

 

It wasn’t Sam who had cracked first and ran out, no it was Tim. He had sprinted out from behind their hiding spot, taking the blanket with him, and crying out as tears ran down his face, “Don’t be sad, Uncle Dan, we’re here!” Sam had no choice but to follow suit.

 

And after the shock had disappeared from them running out from their hiding spot, it turned to anger. Dan and Arin were mad at them, oh so very mad with them. They had never been angry at Sam or Tim before, so when Dan started saying in a calm voice that was laced with anger, “You have no idea how sad your fathers have been since you disappeared,” they got scared.

 

Sam and Tim had ducked their heads at the time, the shame more overpowering then the thought of their plan working. While they were being scolded lightly by Dan—and it wasn’t really a scolding, not really, he would leave that up to Mark and Jack—Arin had immediately called their parents, telling them that they had been finally found.

 

Mark and Jack had rushed over immediately, not believing it. When they saw their two kids safe and healthy looking, they broke down into tears. Of course the tears lasted for a good thirty minutes before it turned into scolding.

 

Even though it had been two days since they were discovered, the wounds were still fresh. Especially because it had seemed that her plan didn’t work, her father was still single, although they did spend a majority of their nights at Mark’s house because her father would have nightmares otherwise.

 

Although the two never thought of trying to runaway again, every night Jack and Mark locked all the doors, then hid the keys so they couldn’t leave. The two would be kept in separate rooms—Tim in his and Sam in the living room. Mark and Jack would sleep in Mark’s bedroom, although Jack’s starting to refer to it as ‘theirs’.

 

Sam hoped that this meant something good, but she doubted it.

 

She sighed, and rolled over on the couch, hating how her father could only look at her for short periods of time before his eyes got watery and he looked away. She hated how she lost his trust, but then she heard talking coming from Mark and Jack’s room and she prayed that it would be worth it.

 

Meanwhile in Mark and Ja—Mark’s room, Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs tucked underneath himself, and he was staring at the comforter that was pooled around Mark’s waist. “Look,” he started, fists clenched. “I know that this has been difficult for all of us, and that when Sam and Tim disappeared we were basically each other’s anchors. But we can’t do this anymore, Mark. We shouldn’t be so dependent on one another. I haven’t been home in almost two months, and this obviously isn’t healthy—” Jack stopped himself before he could say anything more, because he was scared of what might also come out.

  
Mark was just staring at him, like he also couldn’t believe what was being said. He stared at Jack, and he felt . . . weird. It felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Jack, I realize this too. We shouldn’t have done this for this long but I . . . I’m not sure how I’m going to deal without you here. You’ve been the one person who’s been here since they disappeared and I know it’s because Sam also disappeared, but . . .” Mark stopped, not knowing what to say. Well, scratch that, he _knew_ what to say, but he wasn’t so sure if this was the right time.

 

Jack looked up, and he tried to read Mark’s expression, but the other gave no sign of there being anything more behind his words. “I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with being alone back at my house either. But the thing is we’re no longer alone. They’re _back_ , and while we may still be pissed at them for pulling such a dumb stunt, for God’s sake it’s better then never having them again. They feel bad, I know they do, and I . . . I just feel that it would be better if we didn’t . . .”

 

He didn’t know what else to say. He had no idea where to go from there. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the words or the energy. Instead, he slowly pushed himself off of the bed, and glanced at his bag. “We should get going. Sam will probably appreciate being able to sleep in her own bed for once. I’ll . . . I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jack said and he went to grab his bag when Mark grabbed his wrist.

 

“Jack—”

 

“Please, Mark, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” Jack’s voice cracked. “We’re still friends of course, we’ll always be, I just need some—” He was cut off by Mark pushing himself to his knees before his lips were planted firmly on his. Jack stumbled backwards, and he had no idea what was going on at first until his brain caught up with him.

 

 _No_ , Jack thought, his brain running through several different thoughts at once, _This is wrong. Wrong wrong **wrong!**_

 

He shoved Mark away, pushing the other YouTuber so he landed on his back. Jack stared at him with wide eyes with conflicted emotions. He wanted to believe that Mark was really returning his feelings, but at the same time he felt that Mark was just trying to do this to get him to stay. Mark looked at him, shocked by his own emotions. “No,” he heard Jack whisper, and his stomach clenched.

 

“Jack—” he tried to say but Jack had already grabbed his bag and ran out of the room. He listened carefully and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes when he heard the front door open and close.

 

“Why did I do that?” he asked himself as he laid back in bed, struggling to understand why in the world he would do such a thing as _kiss_ Jack when neither one of them were obviously in the best state of mind. “God, you’re so _dumb_.”

 

“Dad?” came a quiet, scared voice and Mark lurched up in bed to see Tim standing in the doorway, holding one of his stuffed animals. “Where are Sam and Jack?”

 

“They . . .” Mark drew off, not quite sure what to tell his son. “They . . . they decided to go home.”

 

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “At ten at night?” he asked, and Mark only nodded while he watched his son crawl up into his bed. A tiny hand touched his face, and Tim whispered, “You’re crying.” He didn’t even realize it until his son pointed it out, and before he could say anything, his son asked, “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

 

His heart broke again. Even though he did still cry at times because of the whole ordeal, he didn’t want Tim to feel bad for it. “No, no it’s not your fault,” he said as he stroked a hand over his son’s hair and then pulled him into his arms. “It’s never your fault.”

 

 

Jack unlocked the front door, and stepped in, his whole body trembling. Sam peered around the house, surprised to see that it looked like a tornado had been through it. Jack flinched at the state of their house, and set down their bags before he picked up Sam. He carried her into her bedroom, which was the only part of the house—besides his recording room—that looked like it did when she had left. He placed her in her bed, and he kissed her on the forehead, wishing her a good night’s rest.

 

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, wondering why there were tears on his face and why they had left Markimoo’s house in such a hurry, but she didn’t say anything in fear of upsetting her father even more. Instead she let herself be tucked into bed and a kiss be placed on her forehead before she watched her father disappear into the living room. She had no other choice but to fall asleep.

 

Jack stared at the mess he had made and flinched. He began to right some of the furniture and clean up some of the mess he made, because after the shock and worry of Sam disappearing, he got angry. Not at Sam, but at himself. He had cursed himself for being such a bad father, and had started destroying stuff because the fact that all his stuff was just sitting perfectly in the living room had pissed him off. Why should he have nice things if he couldn’t even take care of his daughter?

 

Somehow, in his mind at the time, having nice things was bad because Sam wasn’t there to share it with him. That was another reason why he had stayed with Mark so much, he couldn’t stand his own home.

 

He picked up everything that night and didn’t go to bed until four in the morning. He didn’t wake up until noon, and when he did wake up he thought that he was reliving everything again, because at first he didn’t hear any noises coming from the living room.

 

But then he heard the scrapping of a spoon against a plastic bowl, and the sound of a TV show playing in the background. He relaxed against the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm himself. He was back home with Sam and everything was okay. Or at least as okay as they could be, because he still didn’t trust his own daughter, Mark had kissed him last night, he had ran away like a coward, and his stomach hurt like a son of a bitch. He hadn’t eaten anything in at least four days. He didn’t eat the first two days because he was too distraught to even get himself out of bed, and the last two days he had just gotten Sam back, eating wasn’t really the first thing on his mind.

 

Jack forced himself to get up, and he padded into the living room before heading into the kitchen, grabbing the blandest thing he could find before he returned to the living room. Sam had turned the TV off when she heard him leave his room, and she was currently staring down at her almost empty bowl of cereal. Eating some of the bland cereal he had put into a cup, Jack turned the TV back on and allowed Sam to keep watching. She was still grounded for sure, but he wanted some normalcy back. Just a little bit of it.

 

She glanced at him briefly, before she looked at the TV, unsure of what to do. After a couple of minutes she decided just to watch it, that he would have changed the channel already if he was trying to punish her.

 

Jack’s eyelids dropped as he finished off the cereal, and he continued to stare at the TV with mild interest. He heard a ring come from their bags that he hadn’t gotten a chance to unpack last night, and before he could do anything, Sam was already opening the bag to grab his phone for him. She placed it into his hands quickly, and then returned to her spot on the floor.

 

Jack glanced at the message on his phone, seeing Mark’s name across the top of it. He opened it against his better judgment.

 

 ** _I’m sorry_**.

 

Tears welled up in his eyes.

 

**_I shouldn’t have done that. I’m dumb. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to tell you I need you._ **

****

The tears fell down his face, and he bit his tongue, trying to hold back a sob as he read the text message. It hurt, because he needed Mark too. He had the worst nightmares last night and when he woke up the first thing he thought about doing was calling Mark, but he knew that this was better for him.

 

For both of them.

 

He knew that they couldn’t keep relying like each other like they had. They needed to find some help, professional or otherwise. Even though it pained him, he sent him a text back.

 

_I don’t need you._

 

 

 

When Mark read the message he didn’t get sad, he didn’t fall into a pit of depression.

 

His mind just went blank.

 

He didn’t know what to do. Jack had been his landline for so long that he didn’t know who he could turn too to talk about this. He desperately wanted to call Jack and apologize; he wanted to ask for forgiveness for whatever it was he had done. But he knew his words would fall on deaf ears and at that moment he felt too tired to even _attempt_ making a speech. Instead, he curled up around his son on the couch as they watched a movie together. Tim was enjoying it a lot, and didn’t even notice that his dad was radiating an aura of . . . whatever, he was feeling. Loss? Sadness?

 

Rejection even?

 

He didn’t understand how it could be rejection, they weren’t even _dating_. They had even done anything that could even signify that this would be a rejection. But could it be, because Mark had laid his heart on his sleeves when the two of them were using each other as anchors when Sam and Tim disappeared?

 

But yet again, Jack had done the same.

 

But Jack had also covered up his heart as soon as Sam and Tim had returned. Did Mark read into something that wasn’t there?

 

 

A week passed and Jack finally felt comfortable enough again to start recording videos. All of his fans had patiently waited for him to return and they all sent him their over whelming support even though they still had no idea why he and Mark had stopped filming. He was slowly getting back into the groove of things, he began recording for a couple of hours, he would take Sam out to the park, and he even got himself a therapist. He was improving. He hardly had any nightmares anymore, and he never woke up sweating with Mark’s name on his tongue.

 

A month passed, and then two. He hadn’t had any contact with Mark over the two months, which was recommended by his therapist.

 

_“It may be better if you don’t talk to him for a while,” the therapist said, “It could send you into a relapse. You’ve made so much progress, Jack. We can’t have you lose all of it now.”_

 

Jack wanted to text Mark, see how he was doing, but his therapist strictly forbid him from doing it. He even forbid him from looking at what Mark posted on Twitter.

 

He was doing fine, but that was before he woke up with a bunch of notifications from Twitter, all of them asking, _what happened to Mark? What’s wrong with Mark? Is he okay?!_

At first he didn’t understand, his brain was still foggy from sleep, but then it registered. He quickly checked Mark’s twitter, seeing his last tweet said the following: _I cannot do it anymore. Sorry guys. I just can’t._

 

Panic rose up in his chest, and he quickly dressed before he shook Sam awake, who stared at him blankly before she took his offered hand and followed him out of the house. Jack buckled her up in his car quickly before he got in the driver’s seat and sped all the way to Mark’s house.

 

He saw Tim outside playing with a football like nothing was wrong. He was kicking it around in the grass, and Jack wondered at first if he had overreacted. But the feeling deep in his stomach remained there, so he told Sam to play with Tim while he went inside to check on Mark.

 

Mark had to be okay. Mark went and got help after he left, right? He did what any sane person would have done after going through an ordeal like that, right?

 

But then Jack thought back to the situation with Sam’s mom and he shuddered, thinking about how he hadn’t really made the best choices then either. Mark never had to go through something like this before, because while he did have to go through losing his girlfriend, which was a completely different situation from the one they just went through.

 

He opened the door with a shaking hand and he called out, “Mark?” as he looked around the room. The house was clean, and his mind said again, _This is just you misinterpreting that tweet. He’s okay._ But then he noticed that no, the house wasn’t clean. Everything just merely _looked_ that way.

 

Everything had its place, but it wasn’t placed properly. Some of it was even placed haphazardly. It looked like someone had tried to clean up but gave up and just tossed stuff everywhere, and if that tweet was any suggestion then he knew this couldn’t be good.

 

He quickly made his way to Mark’s bedroom, and he didn’t even bother to knock. Mark was lying on his side, staring at the wall and blankets were piled on top of him.

 

He looked so small beneath them.

 

“Mark?” Jack called warily as he stepped forward.

 

“Go away,” came the response, Mark’s voice sounded dry and it cracked when he spoke.

 

Jack flinched, and walked around the bed before he sat down on the side Mark was facing. “Mark, tell me what’s wrong,” he begged quietly, staring at the other. Mark shoved his head underneath the blankets.

 

“Why should I? You don’t need me, so why the hell should I tell you?” he snapped back, and Jack was slightly taken aback by it. He lightly placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder anyways.

 

“I know what I said was harsh and it hurt you,” Jack said, peering at Mark’s hair that was barely visible. “But at the time I thought it was better for both of us if we tried to get help from other people. I thought you knew that’s what I was trying to say, not that . . . I thought you had gotten help, Mark.”

 

Mark shook his head. “I thought I could handle it. I had you. It was enough, I could handle it. I thought that if I went to a therapist . . .” he drew off, trying to think of a reason, “I don’t know what I thought.”

 

Jack bit his lip. He hated seeing his friend like this. “Look, I know a therapist. He’s a really good one. If I make an appointment for you to see him, will you go?” he asked quietly, peering at Mark, who slowly came out from under the covers.

 

“How good is he?”

 

“I don’t have any nightmares anymore,” Jack replied, and he watched an array of emotions come across his face. “I understand if you don’t want too, but you should—”

 

“I’ll go,” Mark said quietly. Jack looked at him with surprise. “If he’s really that good, I’ll go.”

 

Jack nodded, and they sat there quietly, neither knowing what to say. He was about to get up and drag Mark out of bed with him, when Mark said, “I’m sorry about kissing you.”

 

Jack shrugged, and rubbed at his arm. “Its fine, you were trying to get me to stay and you thought that’d be the best way to do it. I don’t hold it against you,” he replied, earning himself a confused look.

 

“That wasn’t why—”

 

Just then the front door was heard opening, and Tim yelling, “Daaadddd!” followed by the patter of feet as Sam and Tim ran towards his bedroom. Mark pushed himself into a sitting position, readying himself for when his son jumped onto the bed. Tim scrambled up, and placed himself in his dad’s lap before he asked, “Can we go to the park, a-and can Sam and Jack come too?”

 

Mark stared at his son, and then shook his head without even asking Jack. “No, I’m sure they have other things to do—”

 

“We’d love too,” Jack said with a smile, seeing the disappointed look on Tim’s face. “As long as it’s okay with your dad. We have nothing to do today.” Tim looked at Mark for confirmation, and the two five year olds squealed with delight before they ran out of the room.

 

Jack got up to follow, but Mark grabbed his wrist again. “That’s not why I kissed you,” he said, “I kissed you because I like you. A lot.”

 

Jack stared at Mark dumbfounded. He shook his head. “No, you don’t, you just think you do because—”

 

“I liked you in that way before they left,” he informed, staring Jack in the eyes, “I wanted to tell you before but then they disappeared and it wasn’t the right time.”

 

“And kissing me when I was trying to leave was the right time?”

 

“No, it wasn’t. I don’t know why I did it. Jack, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too make you uncomfortable. I know you don’t return the same feelings and I hope—”

 

“Whoa,” Jack started, frowning at Mark, “Who said I didn’t have feelings for you?” Mark looked dumbfounded. “Mark, I liked you in that way as well. Hell, I _still_ like you. But now’s not the time for either of us,” he motioned between them, “To even try to have a relationship like that.”

 

“Then when _is_ it the right time?” Mark asked quietly. He figured this was just Jack’s way of trying to tell him to fuck off, he wasn’t interested.

 

Jack thought for a moment. “Six months,” he said. Mark frowned again. “In six months you can take me out to dinner, and we’ll call a sitter for Tim and Sam, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

 

“Why six months?”

 

“I figure by then we’ll both have gone to enough therapist appointments that we’ll both be okay enough to go on a date,” he said, remembering the things his therapist told him. Mark nodded, looking confused a little bit still, and Jack asked him, “Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Mark said without hesitation.

 

“Good,” Jack said with a smile, a blush rising on his cheeks. Mark blushed as well. “Um . . . well, I guess I’ll leave you to get dressed. We’ll be waiting for you outside,” he added awkwardly, and he quickly padded to the door. But, he stopped, and peered back at Mark who hadn’t moved still from his position. “And Mark?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You should let everyone know you’re okay, you gave them quite a scare. And that goes for me as well,” Jack informed, and his voice got real quiet towards the end. Mark gulped, and he felt bad before he nodded. Jack smiled at him, before he exited the room, leaving Mark to pull out his phone and type an apology up quickly, that he was okay and he would return to YouTube soon.

 

After he put his phone on the table, he slid into jeans, and a small smile crossed his face. _Things would get better_ , he thought, before he was drawn out of his thoughts from a victorious sounding, “Woohoo!” came from one of the windows. He looked up to see Sam and Tim standing there in the window, apparently eavesdropping on them the whole time. The two ducked down when they noticed him looking, and for a split second a thought crossed his mind, _Could this have been the reason why they ran away? Were they trying to get us together or something?_

 

But then he immediately shook his head. No, that was stupid. They were only five years old. They couldn’t plan something like that!

 

Unknowingly to him, Sam raised a juice box to clink against Tim’s. “Told you it would work,” she said with a grin.

 

Tim just rolled his eyes.

 

 

**FIN**


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the epilogue! Merry Christmas guys, I hope you guys have a good one! And for those of you who don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays! And have a good day for those that don't celebrate anything :)

Epilogue

 

Jack bit his lip as he adjusted his jacket, and smoothed his hair, trying to make sure he looked alright. Six months had passed since Jack’s deal with Mark, and Mark did everything Jack had asked of him. Going to the therapist had helped both of them, but especially Mark. Since he didn’t go as soon as he could, Mark had needed a little more work then Jack, and he had improved immensely.

 

They had gotten approval from their therapist when they explained the ‘six months’ thing.

 

_“You two are more then ready to try to date,” he had told them, smiling slightly, “Both of you have had major improvements, and I think you’re both ready too.” Both of them had felt nervous, unsure of what the therapist would say when they explained their deal to him. They both figured that he would say no, that it was a bad idea. But for some reason, he didn’t._

Jack thought it may have something to do with him telling the therapist that he had liked Mark before, that this wasn’t some new development. He must have asked Mark the same question, to make sure it wasn’t something that popped up when the kids disappeared.

 

“Dad!”

 

Speaking of children.

 

Jack gave himself one last look over in the mirror, before he left his room to see what Sam wanted. He grinned widely when he saw Dan standing in the doorway with Tim and Mark. “Hey Dan, thanks so much for offering to watch them tonight,” Jack said as he embraced him.

 

Dan patted his back. “No problem, I enjoy watching them. It shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, pulling back, and then stepping to the side so Jack could greet his date.

 

Mark hugged Tim quickly, then ushered him inside. He smiled sheepishly at Jack. “Um, hey,” he said, looking Jack up and down.

 

“Hey yourself,” Jack replied, “We should probably get going, but uh, let me just say goodbye to Sam first . . .” He turned around and went to call out for Sam, but stopped when he saw her behind him. He kneeled down, and quickly hugged her, kissing her on the cheek. “Be good for Dan, okay? I don’t want to come home and hear you’ve been naughty.” He pulled back, squeezing one of her cheeks lightly as she giggled.

 

“Don’t worry dad, I’ll be fine,” she promised, beaming at him. He smiled, and then got up. Both parents exited the house quickly before they could change their minds and just have the kids come along instead.

 

“So where are we going?” Jack asked, looking towards Mark. Mark winked at him.

 

“It’s a surprise.”

 

“Ooo, I like surprises,” Jack replied, arching an eyebrow as they walked around Dan’s car to get to Mark’s.

 

Meanwhile, inside, Sam and Tim were watching from the window. “See, Tim? I told you it was going to work!” Sam exclaimed.

 

“Took a long time,” Tim said, before yelping as the other five year old started to whack him with her septic eye Sam doll.

 

Dan immediately intervened, pushing the two away from each other as he kneeled between them. “What took a long time?” he asked curiously, looking from Tim to Sam.

 

Sam without any hesitation turned to look at Dan, and said proudly, “They’re going on a date! We made a plan to make them go out with each other!”

 

Dan’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Huh?”

 

“When we ran away. I thought we were an obstacle from them getting together, so we ran away so they could be together,” Sam explained, recoiling a little when she remembered Dan’s reaction when he found out they were hiding in the Grump Space.

 

She was shocked though when Dan threw back his head and laughed, not really noticing the uneasiness in his posture. He drew them into a hug, kissing both of their heads. “You two _are not_ obstacles for your parents, you hear me?” he said, resting his forehead against the top of Tim’s head, and effectively enveloping them in his Jew Fro. “They would have gotten together anyways without your plan. It may have just taken them a little longer.”

 

“But it may have taken them years!” Sam protested, frowning.

 

Dan shrugged. “Still would have gotten together,” he pointed out. He saw them deflate, and decided he needed to add something, so he said, “I know you two just wanted to help. I understand that, but next time you two want to help someone, come to me, okay? And if it’s not about your parents, go to them. They’ll help you figure something out.”

 

Tim nodded, and Sam bit her lip, peering outside the window again. Dan felt like he had gotten through Tim, but not so much the stubborn little girl. He just sighed, then kissed the top of her head, and got up to make popcorn for the movie they were about to watch.

 

Sam sat down in front of the window, her arms resting on the windowsill. Tim sat down next to her, peering at her cautiously. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

 

“Just stuff,” she said, burying her face against her arms. Tim blinked, then shrugged, and went to join Dan in the kitchen. She raised her head, staring through the glass, and an indescribable weight growing in her stomach.

 

Meanwhile with Jack and Mark, they just parked outside of an arena. “Where are we?” Jack asked, looking suspiciously over at Mark. He just smiled, and grabbed Jack’s hand, then dragged him towards the arena. “Mark—”

 

“Shush, just wait a second, okay?” Mark pleaded, turning around to look at him, and smiling sheepishly. Jack took a deep breath, and nodded, not saying another word as they walked into the arena.

 

They walked further into the arena, until they stopped at a booth. “What sizes do you need for skates?” the lady behind the booth asked after Mark slid over a twenty.

 

Mark babbled off his size, then looked at Jack. Jack told the girl what size, and then looked at Mark. “We’re going ice skating for our first date?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah. Is there a problem?” Mark asked, and grinned widely when Jack shook his head no. “Good,” he added, and then thanked the girl behind the booth when she handed them their skates. Jack thanked her too, and followed Mark further into the building and to a bench, where they took their shoes off and put on their skates.

 

“Um,” Jack started, “I’ve never done this before, so . . .”

 

Mark smiled as he stood up, and held his hand out to Jack. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, then hoisted Jack up and helped him make his way over to the entrance of the ice rink. There were a few people skating around, but they were too busy enjoying themselves to notice the two YouTubers making their way slowly onto the ice.

 

Mark made his way out first, and then he circled around to take Jack’s hands, helping him keep steady as he stepped on the ice. “It’s just like rollerblading,” he informed Jack. “You’re good at that, right?” Jack was too busy trying to make sure he didn’t fall on his ass to respond, so he just nodded. “Alrighty, so . . .” Mark slowly drew his hands back, allowing Jack to slowly slide across the ice. “Give it a try.”

 

Jack did. He pushed off with one foot like he did when he rollerbladed, and . . .

 

He fell square on his ass.

 

“Motherfuck—!” Jack shouted as his legs kicked out from each other, and he landed on his tailbone. Mark busted out laughing as he watched Jack rub at his ass, but he quickly skated over to help him up.

 

“I thought you said you were good at rollerblading?” Mark asked, amusedly.

 

“Well, I haven’t really done that since Sam was about a month old, so . . .” Jack said sheepishly, ducking his head. Mark just grinned at him, and patted his shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry; it’ll come back to you,” Mark promised, as he grabbed Jack’s hands, skating them backwards, and gently guiding Jack along. They skated like that to one end of the rink, before Mark asked again, “Ready to try again?”

 

Jack nodded, and he was confident this time that he wouldn’t fall on his ass like a dumb fuck. He took a deep breath and turned away from Mark, then pushed off.

  
This time went a lot better. He didn’t fall, and while he did wobble a little, it wasn’t anything like the first time he tried. Someone appeared out of his peripheral vision, and he looked to the side to see Mark, which for some reason made his legs mess up and he almost went down into the splits, but Mark caught him. “I thought you were getting used it!” Mark teased, smiling at him as he helped Jack steady himself.

 

“I am, ya bastard!” Jack said, hitting Mark lightly on the shoulder, “You scared me, that’s all!”

 

“Who could ever be scared of lil’ old me?” Mark asked innocently, batting his eyelashes. Jack rolled his eyes and smirked, before lightly pushing Mark away, then skating away as fast as he could. Mark stared at him, surprised, then he shook it off, and laughed, before he gave chase.

 

The rest of their date they skated around the rink, talking about dumb things and trying to race each other. More then once they both accidentally knocked the other onto the ground, and both of them were disappointed when the girl behind the booth came out and said it was closing time, but neither showed it.

 

They made their way home after that, giggling the whole time, and grinning widely. They didn’t say much on the way home, but they didn’t need too. They had too much fun at the rink as it was. When they parked in Jack’s driveway, and got out, their laughter had just died down.

 

Jack coughed awkwardly as he stood on the porch, and ran his fingers through his hair. “So, um,” Jack started, scratching at the back of his neck. “Tonight was . . . nice.”

 

“Ah, yeah, it was,” Mark replied just as awkwardly. There was a moment of silence. “So, um, would you like to—?” Mark was interrupted as the front door to Jack’s house opened, and Dan walked out with a sleeping Tim in his arms.

 

Dan stopped, blinking at them. “Oh, uh, sorry, did I interrupt something?” he asked, looking between them. They both shook their heads rapidly, insisting nothing was interrupted. He nodded, although he wasn’t so sure that that was the truth. “Sorry, I just really need to get home. Barry’s been nagging all night about when I would get home,” he apologized, quickly handing Tim over to Mark, and somehow not disturbing the five year old’s slumber. Mark and Jack told him it was fine, then wished him a goodnight as he disappeared towards his car.

 

They watched them go, and they stood there awkwardly on the front porch, before Mark cleared his throat. “Um, so I uh, better get going—” he said quickly, and tried to back his way off of the porch, but stop when he felt Jack’s hand touch his forearm.

 

“Mark . . .” Jack began, talking quietly, “What were you going to ask?”

 

Mark swallowed. “Uh . . . I was going to ask you if you would like to go on another date again, sometime?” he asked, looking up at Jack through his eyelashes.

 

Jack smiled. “Of course I would,” he informed, then he leaned over and quickly hugged Mark, and was mindful of Tim. He pulled back, smiling at Mark. “Goodnight,” he said, then headed into his house without another word, leaving a quite surprised Mark on his doorstep.

 

Mark stared at the closed door, then smiled to himself, and cuddled his son closer as he made his way to his car.

 

He couldn’t wait for their next date.


End file.
